


Take A Break

by FiccinDylan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Rimming, Analingus, Canon Convergent, Character Study, Fellatio, It's a thing now, Love Confessions, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Reformed Canon, Rimming, hand holing, if you blink, references to amish m/m
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 10:58:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10489356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiccinDylan/pseuds/FiccinDylan
Summary: I was perusing IG and saw this and nearly died.This was supposed to be some short smut and then it grew and I wrote 11k in a day.akaThe one where Derek has a problem and Stiles is the solution.Aka (via lordkirashand in the comments):Moral of the story: help a cute guy in a bad mood he might let you eat his ass. Lol





	

**Author's Note:**

> Severely underbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Please leave comments and kudos, I love hearing from you!
> 
> ps. I would call this a hard M, but a light E. Mostly there's no actual dicking, just a lot of tonguing. Ahem.

Stiles never had a pet as a child because it was discovered that if he could, he would have every pet. The experiment started small, a goldfish from the county fair, and somewhere along the way Stiles had found a turtle and a frog to accompany “Goldie” as the fish was so aptly named. After a few days, Stiles decided that Goldie, Myrtle and Froggy (he was six and would not be shamed for his conventional naming methods) needed a habitat closer to their natural one and decided to dig up the stinky gardenias from his mother’s garden to create a pool oasis for the group. He did so with the help of a rambunctious stray (Puppy, natch) and a squirrel he named Nutty.

Needless to say, Claudia was less than impressed to come home to her flooded back yard and her son crying because Goldie was lost somewhere in the fray. It was decided then that maybe Stiles and his relationship to pets would be better suited in an observational environment.

This ended up being okay with Stiles. He was always pretty anxious as a kid, so while he liked coming up with solutions to care for the things he loved in his life, there was always this nagging need to do more, to help more, and after nights of staying awake trying to figure out when Myrtle was going to come from her shell, Stiles found he often gave just a little too much of himself in the process.

He’d learn. Halfway during third grade there was a new transfer student who was being harassed because he had asthma really bad and couldn’t really run around with the others. He kept to himself and liked to draw with chalks. Stiles took a liking to him instantly and learned the benefits of helping someone who could actually use it. And sometimes if he was lucky, the help would be returned.

When Stiles’ poor mother passed away, Scott was there for him. Not doing anything big, but also not needing too. Being a present listener and best friend was enough to give Stiles the strength to help his dad, and also himself.

Stiles carried this need and willingness to help with him as he grew older. It presented in strange and exciting ways for him, ways he could never have expected. Like learning everything about werewolves when Scott was bitten one night in the forest, or teaching his first crush Lydia Martin about banshees after she was bit a short time later. He poured himself into research and was adept at coming up with ways to help keep his friends and family safe and happy.

Stiles never met a challenge he couldn’t face or a face whose frown he couldn’t turn upside down. He had a sharp wit and knew how to read people to get the best response from them. Stiles grew a reputation of being reliable and consistently dependable. It was a badge of honor that he wore proudly and even though it was his father who was the Sheriff, it was Stiles who never left a case unsolved.

Perhaps that’s why Derek Hale was such a mystery.

Derek Hale whose parents and most of his family died in a large fire nearly ten years ago. Derek Hale who started as a lonely and angry recluse and slowly grew into area alpha and confidant to their pack. He’d gotten a peace over the time that Stiles knew him, but he hadn’t lost his edge which is one of the many things that drew Stiles too him. Stiles knew a hurt and lost soul when he saw one, and Derek Hale seemed to cry out to him from the moment the wolf caught Scott and Stiles trespassing on his land. Scott was wary, but Stiles knew there was something there.

In the time since that day, Derek remained an alpha, but ceded control of the protection of Beacon Hills to the recently minted True Alpha Scott McCall. Derek would always have control of the land, but he was tired and ready to start living his life. He was fine only dealing with supernatural threat in an advisory capacity and he and Scott communicated often and got along well.

That was one thing that Stiles had seen to. Again, Scott’s initial wariness and mistrust of Derek led to some unwise decisions being made at Derek’s expense, and they were not forgiven nor forgotten easily. It was Stiles who eventually bridged the gap between the two and in the process a friendship bloomed between the human and the wolf.

If one was mildly sharp eyed, one might say that “friendship” is a rather… _colorful_ term for the insult laden and pithy banter between the two. Often the two men could be seen fighting each other, Stiles questioning Derek’s every move and Derek diminutizing the benefits of a human in a pack of weres.

“The best thing you can do is get in the way, Stiles!”

“Yeah, you won’t be saying that when I’m the only one that can get past the mountain ash, will you, Big Guy?”

“It won’t matter if you can get past it if you’re dead before you cross the line.”

“I’m not going to just let them kill me, Derek!”

“I wasn’t talking about _them_.”

“Derek, you ass!”

Yes, to the naked eye it would seem as though the two were combating (or courting given the angle), but the naked eye is often just that: naked, vulnerable, susceptible to influence, taking in too much of a scene without the need for details. When looking at the relationship between Stiles and Derek, it’s often best received to an observant eye.

An observant eye notices first and foremost that in the heated and tense atmosphere of men on the verge, that they are in fact… there. When Scott doesn’t care for someone he simply removes himself from the situation. The Sheriff on the other hand, likes to bring in more people to make the arena less combative. Stiles and Derek preferred to begin their parlay away from prying eyes, where their focus would only be the other. It would often begin with one or the other asking tersely if they could talk to the other person for a moment… in the _other_ room. Stiles would analyze Derek, looking for the switch he could flip to help the man become one with his ills. Derek would analyze Stiles, wondering when the other shoe was going to drop, when was the boy going to betray him, what were his tells? Most would probably ask questions directly, but Stiles and Derek liked to fight and read between the lines.

The eye that was most observant would also notice the little idiosyncrasies that existed during these “arguments”. The complete lack of intimidation on the part of either men when their personal space was invaded by the other. They could often start at opposite ends of the room and meet seamlessly in the middle; Stiles, poking Derek soundly in the chest, Derek, fisting the placket of Stiles’ plaid, the two of them nearly nose to nose, eye contact breaking only when one looked at the other’s mouth.

The bead of sweat that would form on Stiles’ cupid’s bow when he was particularly agitated, or the flick of Derek’s tongue along his bottom lip as he wetted them, preparing for the next gust of hot air that would be aimed towards whatever sentence of Stiles he deemed most ridiculous. The furrow in Stiles’ brow and the broguish wave of Derek’s as he stares at the boy in front of him in total disbelief. The way that disbelief just angers Stiles all the more, that they’ve known each other all this time and he thinks Derek still hasn’t upgraded him from basic human.

And the end of the discussion is always marked by one of them saying something the other could finally relate to. Whether it be Stiles admitting that yes, he may have some disadvantages as a human, but he’s aware and cognizant and he needs Derek’s help; or Derek, finally remembering that Stiles defies common definition and really is in a category of his own, one that Derek hasn’t had to consider for a while and still feels new and strange to him. And with these revelations they exhale, finally glad to be back on the same page.

Stiles soothes the spot in the middle of Derek’s chest, bruised by his errant fingers and cuffs his neck, squeezing gently in a sign of camaraderie. He smirks as Derek smoothes his plaid and tweaks his nose playfully before placing a warm hand on Stiles’ shoulder. They stay like this while they finish up their talk. Making plans that would probably be more productive at a computer or with notes being taken, but this was fine too.

The pack itself was made of several different kinds of eyes, and each set (unsurprisingly) were attached to mouths with various opinions on the matter.

Jackson: So how long have they been fucking?

Isaac: What? No!

Cora: Gross.

Erica: In my mind or in real life?

Boyd: Derek doesn’t know. And neither does Stiles.

Scott: Know what? What’s happening?

Allison: I think they could be cute together!

Scott: Together? I don’t even think they like each other. Stiles talks all the time about how Derek gets under his skin and Derek’s always pushing him around.

Lydia: Wow, now that you mention it, they definitely have been flirting.

Scott: _What_?!

Kira: Aww, they _would_ be cute!

Peter: I suspect the flame of the eventual lovers has yet to be ignited, but I’m sure Stiles wouldn't need much more than a match…

Scott rolls his eyes petulantly, glaring towards the staircase where Peter Hale is sitting, eyes glued to the doorframe where Stiles and Derek are currently arguing.

“Look Peter, I don’t know what you just said, or even why you’re here, but you will stay out of it, understand?!” Scott warns. Peter shrugs smoothly and goes back to scrolling through his phone. Scott scrunches his nose in distaste. After several overthrow plans, straight up murder attempts and now an ankle bracelet provided by the fine folk at Eichen House, Peter was constantly on probation. He’d pled mental incompetence for most of his crimes and attempted to walk his road to redemption by helping the pack fight off the ghost riders in order to save his newly discovered son, Jackson. Most welcomed him in congenially, but Scott took his cue from Derek who kept Peter close for observation, but otherwise kept his distance. So far he hadn’t wreaked any further havoc, but what he was missing in megolomaniacal dramatics, he made up for by dabbling in the love lives of the pack.

The paired off members of the pack were oblivious, the singles were less than amused, but as long as world domination wasn’t on the table no one could be assed to bother with the bored housebound wolf.

Finally someone would notice that Derek and Stiles had been missing and find them, breaking them away from each other and back to the pack to commiserate. Or in some cases, they would come back on their own, often shoulder to shoulder, presenting as a united front. Despite the chatter that either action inspired, it was taken in stride since the end result normally left the pack stronger, better protected and alive.

Stiles felt accomplished, like he was a part of the pack, but something in him still felt unsettled. Sure, he acted as head researcher and planner for the pack and he took great pride in executing the station to the best of his ability, but Stiles has always been best at assisting one on one. The health of a group of people is indicated by the health of those people.

With Scott he helped him gain control of his wolf and make the transition from awkward lacrosse bench warmer to lacrosse team captain and then True Alpha in residence. With Lydia he helped her mold herself into a banshee of formidable force, honing her powers not only to predict death, but also use the energy as a defensive weapon. He helped Jackson redirect his anger and accept the intended transformation of the bit, resulting in one of the most beautiful weres in the pack, rather than the ugly and scarred kanima. He helped Isaac build his confidence and Erica… well, Erica may be a bit out of Stiles league but he constantly teamed her up with Boyd and that brought Boyd’s leadership and compassion to the forefront and into Erica’s arms.

Stiles helped Kira with his kitsune, Allison with her grief when her own mother met a disastrous end. He helped Cora reintegrate herself into a broken family and even helped Peter. Sure it was by finding the finest psychotherapist in the tri-state area that money could buy, but no one blinked an eye at the expense when it came to maintaining the mental stability of the beleaguered wolf.

That only left Derek. Stiles wasn’t so full of hubris that he thought the man needed or even wanted his help, or any help at all for that matter. He’d been through hell and back and managed to pull himself up every time, stronger and no longer worse for the wear. Stiles likes to think he had something to do with that, but he can’t pinpoint one exact situation to that would have lead to Derek’s transformation. The thing is, that he _feels_ like there’s something missing in the equation, and the answer to ‘x’ is ‘Stiles’. But how? Especially when all Stiles can seem to do is yell at or berate the wolf for his rash decisions or explosive temper. Sometimes Stiles feels like he’s not helping at all. Sometimes he feels like he’s hurting and he simply can’t take that.

Stiles is the head researcher of the pack and by definition, it is his job to have observant eyes. And he does. He can see each of the missing pieces, every scenario, every angle and create a picture that leads to the best result for his created family. But when it comes to Derek his eyes are naked as the day they were born. For if he looked at the situation as it lay, he would notice that a large percentage of the positive changes in Derek’s life were made because of suggestions (read: demands) that Stiles made.

He would notice when Derek moved from the abandoned train station to the gutted loft and finally to a renovated house on the old Hale land that they’d reclaimed from the city. He would also notice that using said house to host pack meetings, bonding nights and hell, even house Peter, were all effects of Stiles shaping and molding their lives.

He might also have noticed the change in Derek. How the fights may start out just as spontaneously combustible as ever, but they were shorter now and contained less ire. Perhaps Stiles didn’t notice because the same amount of time was spent, though now a greater length was devoted to their own version of aftercare. The tactile touches of clothed arms, grazing of thumbs over cheekbones and jaws, the occasional protective warmth of a hand pressed into the lower back, the comfort of a reassuring palm lain delicately on a chest housing a rapidly beating heart.

Even outside of just themselves, Derek was more patient with his charges, more accepting of Scott’s leadership, more tolerant of the petty of Peter’s shenanigans. He was open and accessible, laughter wasn’t just a unicorn event or done bitterly dripping with sarcasm. He was developing smile lines and the pack was better for it.

To his credit, Stiles did notice this, which is why when Derek’s demeanor suddenly shifted, he was on his toes immediately trying to understand the root of the problem. Again though, the naked eye can see this change and understand it needed attending to. It’s the observant eye; however, that it wasn’t one thing that soured Derek’s mood and the cause wasn’t the point in the first place, only the solution. Perhaps if Stiles had just read the periphery with this observant eye, he wouldn’t have been so shocked by the situation he found himself in.

***

It’s a lovely fall day in Beacon Hills and Derek Hale is acting like a little bitch.

“Stiles! That’s so not nice!” Lydia exclaimed, slapping Stiles’ arm as he flails out, pointing to the room Derek just _huffed_ into.

“Lydds, he literally just _huffed_ out of the room! He was practically in a _snit_! A _snit,_ Lydds!” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. “He’s been pissy all week, even moreso than usual.”

Lydia raises a judgemental brow in Stiles’ direction but can’t help but nod in agreement. Derek has been more testy as of late and his mood was starting to agitate the other wolves. Even the normally affable Isaac was pacing the floors in the living room.

“I can’t think of anything that would have set him off? Anything strange happening? An anniversary or forgotten birthday?” Lydia looks at Derek’s little sister who is making sandwiches for her and Kira. She just shrugs and is about to answer when Stiles, still looking wistfully towards the door, pockets his hands and sighs.

“Nah, of course we didn’t forget his birthday and it’s not the anniversary of the fire or Paige or anything like that. We’re not near a full moon and we just got done neutralizing a violent threat just a couple of weeks ago so I know he’s not restless. His diet hasn’t changed and he still drinks green tea and does the meditation thing so I’m not sure what’s eating at him. I think he knows because he keeps withdrawing, but I don’t think he gets that we’ve noticed or how it’s affecting the pups.”

Both Lydia and Cora share a look before looking at Stiles _observantly_. Kira giggles.

“Hey Stiles, when is _my_ birthday?” She asks cheekily. Stiles glances at her briefly, scrunching his nose in calculation.

“I don’t know, it’s like.. winter, right? Scott knows, don’t worry.” He waves her off and goes back to staring at the essence of Derek that evidently inhabits the frame he stalked through just moments ago. Cora shakes her head and grabs the food, pulling a still giggling Kira into the den while Lydia looks for someone else to corroborate the ‘ _Stiles Stilinski may be totally gay for Derek Hale’_ elephant in the room. She’s met with the naked eye of Isaac who grimaces at being called ‘ _pup_ ’.

“I swear to god, Stiles. Now is not the time for this bul-” Isaac doesn’t get to finish the threat because Stiles is already out of the room, completely unaware of his offense. Isaac just looks at the red head dejectedly as Lydia pats his head and scratches behind his ear.

Normally Stiles would approach the situation with his usual sauciness, perhaps employing one of his faves, ‘ _hey assface, what’s crawled in your dick slit and died?’_ , but something wisely tells him to approach the brooding wolf with kid gloves. Derek is in the study, sitting with his legs up on the window seat, staring outside while thumbing a forgotten book in his lap. He absently fingers through the pages, seemingly enjoying the sensation of the rough and weathered pages on his skin than the actual content. He seems distracted, but pointedly so. There’s one thing that’s got him agitated and Stiles is determined to figure out what it is.

He figures he’ll open low, say something pithy, only mildly inappropriate and just on the right side of amusing. Something for Derek to put his guard down so he can receive the tough love that Stiles is sure this conversation is going to need. He walks into the room and he knows he’s in for something when Derek not only doesn’t acknowledge him, but also doesn’t move his legs so Stiles can sit next to him. The petulant part of Stiles wants to straddle the wolf just to rile him up, but the more sensible side understands that Derek probably doesn’t even fully register he’s there, and that in and of itself is a gift. Derek could pick any of them out of a crowd, but Stiles’ presence in the house is so constant that he’s sure it just smells like he’s there all the time. He’s been able to sneak up on Scott and the others before because of it and it gives him great pleasure everytime he scares the bejeebus out of them.

The fact that Derek, after being so guarded and closed off and suspicious, is able to be okay with the fact that he can lose track of Stiles is a big step for them and a privilege that Stiles has never taken lightly. He clears his throat kindly and silently asks for permission to join Derek once he has the wolf’s attention. Derek doesn’t give much in way of response, just looks at Stiles and then at a chair by the desk against the opposite wall before returning his gaze outdoor. Stiles knows how to read these cues (through naked eyes of course, really he just does what he wants and Derek takes it) and grabs the chair, dragging it over to Derek and sitting across from him.

He leans forward, rubbing his hands together and silently requesting the attention of the wolf who finally looks over at him, his face guarded and impassive. Stiles exhales and begins, trying to maintain a steady air of nonchalance as he’s sure his words will either make the wolf laugh, or kick him out of his house.

“Hey Big Guy, so… I can’t help but have noticed you’re kind of surly lately.” He starts. Stiles is glad he started lowkey and mellow because he can see the twitch in Derek’s eye as he struggles to hold it together. Stiles decides that’s response enough and continues,

“You’ve been really stressed and angry, do… do you need some help relaxing?”

Derek’s brow slightly furrows and Stiles knows that means he’s losing him so he hurries with the next part.

“I don’t know, something to take your mind off of things. A distraction maybe, or even just someone to take care of you for once, maybe even eat that ass a little?”

This is the point where he expects Derek to crack a smile or laugh at him or even grimace in second hand embarrassment, and for a solitary moment, Stiles gets his wish as Derek’s face begins to crowd together on the way to some faux offense. But then, just as quickly, like the dawning of the morning sun across a darkened horizon indicating a new day, Derek’s face _awakens_. What Stiles gets from him next is completely unexpected.

A gaze, the word ‘peering’ comes to mind, a small look, a peripheral glance, a small miniscule gander that blooms and blossoms into a visage of utter relief and contentment. A realization of sorts, that there is something being offered and the conclusion that coupled with an offering is the ability nee responsibility of acceptance. That acceptance is a choice, but also an actual option. An option Stiles hadn’t realized he was offering in reality, but Derek didn’t know that and once again, the lack of awareness of Stiles’ doesn’t bother the wolf and it’s okay.

“Actually, Stiles,” Derek says, a smile now gracing his face as he looks nakedly into Stiles’ soul with kaleidoscopic eyes full of… is that appreciation in those brown flecks? “That sounds really good. That’s really sweet of you to offer, thank you.”

Before Stiles even has time to consider that Derek Hale is fucking with him, the wolf in question stands up and braces his two hands on the arms of the chair Stiles is sitting in. He leans in and presses his lush pout to Stiles’ plucky cupid boy, the warm of his lips signifying the lift of his mood. The kiss is sweet, nearly chaste, but also loaded with intention. He pulls back, looking again into Stiles’ widened eyes and grins.

“Give me about 12 hours to prep and I’ll see you tonight?” Derek asks. Stiles nods dumbly as Derek leans forward again and sniffs at Stiles’ neck, giving his Adam’s apple a small nip. He pulls back, giving Stiles one last side glance and walks briskly out of the room. A few moments later, Stiles hears Derek yelling that everyone needs to be out by the time he gets back and he hears the front door slam followed by the revving of Derek’s Camaro in the drive. It’s not until he hears the crunching of the gravel in the drive that Stiles finally comes back online.

“Holy shit!” He says out loud, uncaringly to the nobody in the room with him. He still can’t believe what’s happened and his lips are still tingling from the frankly astonishing kiss that he says it again, just to make wholly sure his mouth still works and it wasn’t just a fluke. “Holy _shit_!”

It still works, even though he still hasn’t mastered the art of not gaping like a slackjawed yokle.

“Stiles, you okay?”

Stiles stands quickly, twirling so fast he almost dizzies. At the door stands Boyd watching him concerned. Stiles stares at him for a moment and then shrugs deeply, thrusting both arms out and up.

“I gotta learn how to fucking eat ass! In 12 hours?!” And yes, the last part of the statement (yelped with a cocked head and an entirely understandable squeak) is a question because _what the fuck, Derek!?_ Boyd looks at Stiles and appears to make a decision that has never failed him and he’s hoping to milk it once more.

“Nope!” is all he simply says before walking away.

Stiles gets it, but he’s still a little bit hurt, he won’t lie. Ultimately there’s no time to. He’s got some learning to do!

He runs out of the room and down the hall, past the pack who are preparing to leave and then back to study wondering if perhaps Derek had a book on it. A book on eating ass. Are there books on eating ass? If Stiles learns could he get rich and write one? Shit, is that fanfiction? Stiles wonders about this as he runs around the house like a chicken with its head cut off. Scott is about to reach out and stop him when Boyd grabs his elbow and simply shakes his head. Boyd was a formidable and dependable second under Derek and he continues the role alongside Stiles under Scott’s direction. Scott has come to know Boyd as an impeccable judge of character and situation and that moment was no exception. Scott grabs Allison and they head out to her car.

Stiles looks around the study and comes to his senses right before he begins to search for tips using Derek’s computer. That… would probably not end well. His data plan is for specific apps only and wifi and Stiles doesn’t even want to research it on the house wifi. He’ll have to wait until he gets home. Although there is one source currently that may be able to shed a little light on the situation.

Again, the point must be relayed that Stiles, when normally of sound mind and body, can be quite analytical and reasonable. He has an unmistakable enthusiasm that will always be a part of his character, but in most situations he handles himself with candor and class with a side of confidence and wit. This…. was not one of those times.

“So say I was looking for someone to give me some tips, _just_ some tips! Would you be that man?” Stiles looks at Peter who is looking up at him quizzically from the book he’s reading.

“You want me to give you… _just the tip_ , Stiles?” Peter asks insouciantly as the boy fidgets in his door way. Stiles stops and groans. He knew as soon as the words left his mouth, he was just setting the elder wolf up for a jocular one-liner, but Stiles would like it stated for the record that the soundness of his mind and body were still in the study and frozen in shock from the kiss that continued to rock his world.

Perhaps a flashback of sorts is required? Since the day in the forest Stiles had known that Derek was an attractive man. Actually, let’s back up a bit further. To the year Stiles very definitively declared to his mother that she didn’t have to worry about the future because he was going to marry either Beyonce or Justin Timberlake. He used his iPod and played her music from both and she smiled at him gently, agreeing he’d made a fantastic choice in either and she would be happy as long as he was treated well and loved himself.

So looking at Derek Hale’s chiseled jaw and forest colored eyes was not necessarily a determining factor after finding that Justin had left him for Cameron and then Jessica and Beyonce for Jay-Z. Stiles could admit that although he’d grown and filled out a lot, both were probably upgrades simply for the fact that they didn’t dabble in supernatural bullshit. Additionally, Stiles had also been nursing a long time crush on red-headed heroine Lydia Martin so he wasn’t just interested in looks, a strong intellect and sharp tongue aided heavily when gauging his attraction.

Stiles moth to a flame fixation towards Derek Hale was kindled by his face sure (and that ass, my goodness), but it was squelched by the one thing his mother had always cautioned him about in the past and he knew would never steer him wrong. She always told him to be sure to love himself, and to only love someone who loved themselves to. At the time Derek and Stiles met, on that cloudy, sallow fall day in the Beacon Hills preserve, Stiles could see the pain and self loathing emanating from the young man. As a helper he wanted to intervene, but he’d learned another lesson about trying to help people who weren’t ready to receive it so he knew to keep his distance.

What started as pity led to anger and frustration at Derek’s initial lashing out towards him and Scott. Stiles guesses he understood on a very basic level. Derek had been through some bullshit and now these two teenagers were on his property threatening to add to it. The thing is, if Derek would just view the scene observationally, he would have known that Scott was in need of care that was well beyond the depth of either of the two boys. But Derek wasn’t ready.

It took months for them to get into sync, followed by years of long, silent absences and terse showdowns. It wasn’t until Derek came back from South America (via Mexico) with Cora in tow, that the wolf finally seemed ready to accept the help he so desperately needed. He’d found a therapist he liked and took part in several holistic treatments designed to naturally bring zen and balance to his life. The pack was better for it and as Derek started to care for himself, he slowly realized that he loved himself. And evidently made the decision that afternoon that he was ready to be loved.

By Stiles.

To be perfectly honest - and if any questions are asked, Stiles is sure to deny his culpability to them all - Stiles forgot. He’d gotten too comfortable with having Derek in his ‘ _No_ ’ column which admittedly was an ‘ _Out of Stiles_ ’ League’ column so the people on it were especially off limits. Stiles could deal with Derek this way, knowing he was firmly out of reach. He could go through his days admiring the way he filled out his jeans, or the way his Henleys made his eyes pop and know to reserve those images for his ‘ _Silky Stiles Time’_ and never the twain shall meet. After all, it wasn’t love, that wasn’t an option here, it was just attraction and Stiles was a healthy teenage boy who didn’t believe in slut shaming horny virgins.

So when Derek’s edict was sealed with a kiss to his lips, suddenly a whole new world was opened up. Because he didn’t _just_ want to eat Derek’s ass (and boy did he ever want to! Looking back he’s convinced the suggestion was definitely plucked from his subconscious), he wanted to _date_ Derek’s ass, and probably move in with it and marry it and get an actual dog, or hell, even a cat and maybe they could find some kids to raise and open some combination dog bakery slash internet cafe. And damnit now that the ass eating was laid before him, he could see the waiters swirling around him carrying platters with all the other options on them, twirling in an enticing dance, showing him the new beauty of a future with this enigma of a man.

All he had to do was get through the first course. He’d figure the rest out on the way.

“I need some help learning how to eat ass.” Stiles regurgitates inelegantly at the wolf who has now thrown the book in his hand aside. Stiles looks at the title, _Forbidden Rumspringa_ by Keira Edwards. That can’t be a good sign.

Well, that, along with the cheshire like grin that spread far too slowly and too wide on Peter’s face.

“You look like an extra in that _Black Hole Sun_ video and I shouldn’t even know what that is.” Stiles says as he backs slowly out of the doorway. Peter’s eyes widen and he holds out both hands as though he’s trying to pacify a wild animal. His eyes look nearly manic.

“No, Stiles wait, I can help you! Let me help you, I can eat a peach for hours! Stiles, no, wait!”

But Stiles has wisely ran up the stairs and out of the house towards his Jeep.

He’s gotta regroup. There’s still too much adrenaline racing through him and he’s going to be burnt out by the time 10pm even fucking comes. He needs to look at this analytically, like he would a plan for the pack. He needs to weigh his options and find a method that works for him and will deliver the greatest output for the input received. He needs to make a list of reliable sources and set his parameters for what to expect and what to do if the unexpected happens.

Before all of that though, he needs to find somewhere to jack off.

He speeds all the way home and runs upstairs to the bathroom he shares with his dad. He leaves the door open, happy that his dad is at the station and drops his pants, stripping his dick like it’s on fire and his hand is the extinguisher.

“Oh my holy _fuck_ , Derek!” He hisses as he leans back against the door, toes off his shoe and shakes his leg free from one side of his jeans. He anchors that foot on the counter, sticks the fingers on the hand not jacking his cock like a shake weight into his mouth and wets it to massage his balls and prod at his hole. The zings of pleasure zip through him like matchbox racers on a rickety track and as always, they go about three clean rounds before crashing into each other in a catastrophic and calamitous collision. Stiles screams as he comes so hard he sees white, blacks out and paints the mirror Jackson Pollock style before sliding to the floor. He falls asleep immediately and wakes up 20 minutes later half strewn awry on the hallway floor.

Finally, with his mind cleared and the soundness returned, Stiles sits at his desk and attempts to map out the best way to eat Derek Hale’s ass. He’s printed out a diagram of the erogenous zones of the lower shelf and highlighted some areas of interest. He trusts that Derek knows how to prep himself on his end, so he’s really looking at ways to maximize orgasm potential. He’s got a porn video up on one side of his laptop and an instructional video on how to best find and manipulate the prostate on the other. He’s sitting there watching intently with his tongue lolling from his mouth and a notepad in his hand when Lydia barges into his room.

“Stiles why aren’t you answering your phone? Peter keeps texting us about sending you back to the house? What’s going-” Lydia stops short at the site of one of her best friends, Stiles Stilinski, sitting in a chair with a boner.. and a notepad… and a yellow highlighter in his mouth, watch what appeared to be double screened porn while marking on an infograph of a man’s anus. She opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. Before she can speak, Stiles decides to put his own foot in his mouth.

“It’s not what it looks like!” He insists, artfully locking his screen and throwing the notepad on top of the anus graph. “I’m trying to learn how to eat ass!” He says in a manner that’s so succinct and purportedly explanatory that it causes Lydia to furrow her brow incredulously.

“Stiles! What the hell did you think it looked like?!” She asks in an atypical fashion, her normally measured facade taking a backseat to Stiles’ shenanigans. Stiles looks around and shakes his head.

“Lyds, I’m so far in over my head!” Stiles cries, nearly defeated, “There’s positioning to consider and like, additives and do I finger him and and there was something about the alphabet but which one do I say? And then Peter said something about peaches and-”

“Stiles! Breathe!” Lydia thankfully interrupts Stiles descent into anal madness. “Listen, I don’t want to be the gossiper, but have you tried talking to Allison about this?”

Stiles stares into space, trying to figure out which mental file to store this information in until he has time to consider the implications.

“Scott won’t answer my calls and I didn’t even think to talk to Ally, oh my god!”

“Jesus, I shouldn’t have said anything. Look, keep your mouth shut about that, and I’ll take you to some analingus experts who can help.” Lydia grabs Stiles’ hoodie, throwing it at his face and begins to gather his study materials. “Can you travel or do you need to take care of that thing first?”

Lydia motions to Stiles’ junk with her _elbow_ which Stiles refuses to acknowledge except with a passive gesticulation of heavy shoulders and an ‘ _eh_ ’ expression. He follows her out and they drive over to Danny Mahealani’s house. Stiles is curious, but knows better than to question Lydia when she’s offering assistance. They walk into the house and it’s quiet until they hit the stairs. At the top Lydia turns to Stiles whispering.

“Now you’re going to go in and you’re not going to say a thing. He’s going to know you’re there, but this only works if he knows, but doesn’t _know_.” Stiles takes a minute to try and translate her words into a real life situation, or even tries to figure out who she’s talking about, but knows a moot cause when he sees one. He simply nods and listens. “We’re going to go in, we’re going to stand against the wall, and when it’s over we’re going to leave and you’re going to take a nap and prepare for Derek’s.”

Stiles eye’s lit up and the tips of his ears burned red, “How… how did you know it was him?”

“Stiles,” Lydia says with a soft smile and kind eyes, the kindest Stiles has seen since the day she turned him down saying they’d be better off as best friends, “It’s always been him.”

She takes his hand in hers and guides him down the hall to a closed door. They walk inside and Stiles’ jaw drops to the floor. On the bed lies Jackson Whittemore, high school lacrosse superstar, ex expat, and ex-kanima asshole cum gorgeous wolf asshole with a heart of some precious metal close to gold, maybe mercury or… beryllium. He’s blindfolded on his back and his hands cuffed to the metal bars in the bedpost above his head. His thighs are in the air and his knees are being held apart with a spreader bar. Stiles swears he can see the milky way is how deep into Jackson’s asshole he’s currently viewing. It’s hypnotising and he’s hoping the night with Derek doesn’t end with him forever bucking like a chicken anytime someone says avocado. Though honestly if it goes anything like Stiles anticipates, it could be written off as merely an occupational hazard.

Danny acknowledges Lydia and Stiles briefly, throwing the latter a wink and motioning to the far wall. He sees Jackson sniff at the air, but otherwise the were is quiet, though mostly in part to the ball gag shoved into his mouth. Damn Jackson was freaky.

Stiles stifles a nervous giggle and collects himself to stand quietly against the wall in the dimly lit room next to Lydia. There are unscented candles lit all around and a few lamps with scarves thrown over them illuminating the room. The lone window boasts a shade that filters in just the autumn tones of the midday sun. Everything looks dreamy like what Stiles imagines the green room looked like during the _Eyes Wide Shut_ orgy scene.

Danny is naked and holding a riding crop with he drags up and down Jackson’s hairy thighs. He hums lowly and gives Jackson a light slap with the crop directly onto his hole. Jackson winces and bucks his hips. Stiles makes note of the reaction.

“You see,” Danny says outloud, presumably to no one even though Jackson surely knows Stiles and Lydia are there, “the sphincter is the meeting place of several nerve endings and is extremely sensitive. Normally an asshole attempts to stay closed, but if you stretch it just right, it also stretches the nerves allowing for a greater sensory overload. This can feel unusual, but if you settle the participant, those nerves soon dissolve into pleasure. I find the best way to soothe an agitated partner is with a kiss.” Danny drops smoothly to his knees begins making out with Jackson’s asshole. He tongues fucks it soundly, getting egged on by the voracity of Jackson’s groans.

Stiles hands automatically go to his crotch and Lydia’s finger is tracing a circle under her shirt around her areola. Stiles can’t figure out what the fuck is happening, but he knows he’s got to leave right now. He nudges Lydia, blindly bumping the arm with the hand she has snaked under her skirt and into her panties and motions towards the door. Lydia looks annoyed, but composes herself quickly as they move noiselessly and open and close the door behind them as inaudibly as possible. In the hall Lydia fans herself and Stiles does jumping jacks before running down the backstairs to the kitchen splashing water on his face (and honestly, a little down his pants). Lydia grabs him and they head outside back towards her car. It’s not until they get inside that Stiles explodes.

“Oh my god, what the fuck was that?!” He yells as Lydia pulls away and heads back towards Stiles’ place. She adjusts her gloss in the mirror and smirks.

“That, my friend, was a masterclass in eating ass. Mind you, the accessories were a bit over the top, but Danny knows what he’s doing. If you wait about an hour you can call him for some specific tips.”

“I can call him? Why didn’t we just do that in the first place?!” Stiles nearly screams, still impossibly turned on. Lydia scoffs at him.

“You know you loved seeing Jackson’s ass in the air and you are definitely someone who needs to observe what’s going on rather than just be told. It’s what makes you so analytical.”

Stiles nods knowing overall she’s right. He wouldn’t have even known what to ask Danny if they’d just called and now he has a ton of questions he needs answers to. Just… so many questions.

"I swear I saw Bilbo Baggins snatching the ring from Gollum. It was like looking into an enchanted mirror. I wanted to warn Gollum, but I couldn't... I couldn't, Lydds."

Lydia cocked her head questioningly to the side, "Isn't Gollum bad though?"

"Naw, he's just _Missundaztood_." Stiles explains shaking his head.

Lydia nods knowingly. They've all been there.

“I found out about it while Jackson and I were dating. He asked me if I would ever consider doing it and he mentioned he sometimes let Danny eat him out. Sometimes I’d let a tongue slip if I was giving him head, but I never could bring myself to go all the way. It’s just not in my wiring. You won’t have any trouble though, I know you have a heady fascination with the slightly feral.” Lydia side eyes Stiles, not unkindly, as she pulls into his driveway, “Anyhow, it was later when he actually started dating Danny that I knew it’d started up again, you could see the relief on his face.”

Stiles masks a laugh as a cough, and is rewarded with a playful punch to the arm. He kisses Lydia on the cheek and thanks her before climbing out of the car and heading back inside. He new innately he was gilding the lily of this particular process and the thought of getting too wrapped up in method that he missed the experience entirely was daunting. He decides to wing it. Something about seeing Lydia willingly cede her control for carnal gain, and seeing Jackson check his dignity at the door, finally got Stiles out of his head. He’s got a good base and his only goal is to make Derek’s face come anywhere close to the level of bliss that lay on Jackson’s as he took everything Danny had to offer him. Because that’s what Stiles was willing and prepared to give… _everything_.

***

Around 10pm that night he parks his Jeep and walks slowly to the door. He reaches his hand up and knocks lightly, knowing Derek already knows he’s there. He could just walk in, but he wants to draw this out for as long as possible, wants to commit every moment to memory, because this is the day. And it’s not just the day where for once Stiles’ mouth got him out of trouble and into some ass, but rather a day to begin all days. A day that could be turned into weeks and then months and hopefully years. Years of loving this man. It never even occurred to Stiles that Derek would be just a friends with benefits type of guy because once his blind spots were checked, he began to look at the both of them with observational eyes. He saw the ways he’d endeared himself to Derek and vice versa. If he sat down and thought about it, he could probably pinpoint the moment the wolf fell in love with Stiles, and more importantly the moment the wolf realized that maybe someone -even someone like Stiles- could love him back.

The door opens and Derek stands there barefoot in a robe, looking soft and dewy, fresh from the shower and smiling brightly. Stiles takes a step forward and reaches a hand slowly, allowing time for a last minute redirection if needed. He receives none and wraps his arm around Derek, pressing his hand into the wolf’s lower back and bringing him close to his body, greeting him with a sweet hello kiss. It’s on the right side of a smooch and when they part Derek exhales audibly, palming Stiles’ chest and pulling him the rest of the way into the house. Stiles follows gladly.

They small talk about nothing, just the minutia of everyday life. Mrs. Robeson at the store’s daughter just went into labor and she’ll be taking the next three weeks off. Stiles received acceptance letters from his schools of choice and now was just the job of narrowing down to the best offer. Derek offered to help and Stiles took him up on it, knowing Derek would want somewhere close, but would pay for frequent trips home and back if a more remote offer was better.

They make their way to Derek’s bedroom and Derek sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. Stiles stand in front of him before straddling the wolf’s hips and wrapping his arms around Derek’s fluffy fabric covered shoulders. He still moves tentatively, like the victim after a tickle fight; wary, but safe. He’s no longer scared that Derek will push him away, but rather anxious about what comes next. In the world of everything, how does one choose?

“Your mind is deafening.” Derek says, amused as he runs his hands up and down Stiles’ thighs. Stiles can feel his cock stiffening in his jeans and presses in closer to press his pout to Derek’s. Derek hums happily and breaches Stiles’ mouth with an eager and fiery tongue, long and wicked. Hell, when Stiles was done he might ask Derek to return the favor if it meant that thing having a long conversation with his prostate. Stiles groans at the ministration and the thought as he presses Derek back, back, back until he’s lying on the mattress.

They make out languidly, just enjoying each other’s essence and whispering sweet yet filthy things to each other. Promises to make the other scream, to cover the other in cum and watch as it dries into a flaky pattern on the other’s skin. Some of it is ridiculous, proven when Stiles promises to moisturize Derek’s situation and preserve his sexy. Some of it is gracious, like when Derek says he still wants Stiles to eat him out, even after saying that nonsense. The two truly made quite the pair.

Finally Stiles pushes himself up and strands, stripping off his hoodie and shirts all in one go. Derek reaches for the belt to his robe, but Stiles stops him. He then unbuttons his jeans and pushes them and his boxes to the floor deftly, exposing his body to the wolf who snarls at the appetizer just out of reach. Stiles grins smugly, not missing the opportunity to be flattered, and Derek indulges him so prettily. As a thank you Stiles places warm palms on Derek’s knees and runs them softly under the robe, allowing the fabric to fall to the side, presenting the wolf’s hirsute thighs.

It’s Stiles that then reaches for the cord keeping him from his man and makes short work of its disposal. He then opens the robe, drawing it down Derek’s shoulders, releasing his arms and stands back to look at the gorgeous man lain before him on a bed of monogrammed terry cloth. He is a sight; everything Stiles always knew he found attractive in men - the sharp cheekbones, the peaked nipples, the gorgeous cock, with just enough Derek - the pinking of Derek’s cheeks and the tips of his ears, the bob to his Adam’s apple as he swallows down his own anxiety - to make his heart flutter.

He climbs over Derek again, laying his body against him, skin to heated skin and allowing them a few moments to just roll around and enjoy each other’s bodies. Derek presses Stiles into the mattress and nips at his collarbone or kisses the constellation of moles collecting at his jaw. Stiles rolls them over again and his body asks Derek questions in curious grazes and inquisitive looks. Derek’s body answers in grateful moans and agog exhalations. They’re both hard and panting against one another, leaving warm and damp impressions anywhere their mouths can reach the other. It’s enough, even with the promise of more lingering just ahead of them.

“Derek, wait.” Stiles drawls as Derek mouths at the tip of his dick. “Honey wait, come up here.”

“Honey?” Derek quips, slidingly smoothly up Stiles and kissing him sweetly before mouthing at the soft flesh just under his jaw. Stiles runs his hands up and down Derek’s sides.

“Cause you’re so sweet.” Stiles says with a light pinch to Derek’s ass, causing the wolf to yip playfully. “I wanna make you come first, and then eat you out, make sure you’re relaxed and sensitive when I get my mouth on you.” Stiles bites at Derek’s ear lobe and Derek playfully wrestles away before sitting up and teasingly grinding their dicks together. The movement backfires as it causes both men to hiss out moans.

“What about you? Should I suck you off first?” Derek asks with an innocent expression that’s belied by the menace twinkling in his eyes. Stiles looks the wolf up and down, can feel and the sweat and heat pour off of him and could got lost in the black opal pools of his dilated pupils and never have the need to be found, and shakes his head.

“No, I’m already so good.” Stiles reaches forward suddenly and pulls Derek to him, turning again and pushing him into the mattress. The wolf carelessly lets Stiles take control and watches as the boy winds his way down his torso, making short pit stops at his collarbone, both nipples, his belly button and the V of his Apollo’s belt. He noses at Derek’s cock, inhaling the fragrant stench of the wolf that lies under the body wash and fabric softener. He can smell the woods just after a rain once the pollen has been washed from the air. He smells like a fresh kill, succulent and ready to be devoured. So Stiles does.

He takes Derek’s cock in hand and gives it a slow and deliberate tug, pulling the foreskin even further down the shaft enjoying the heated flesh pulsating in his palm. He tongues at Derek’s already weeping slit as he hears the wolf keen in frustrated pleasure above him. He ignores the pleas and sticks his tongue out to sample the elixir sprouting from this tree of life. It’s salty and robust and everything Stiles can do to not come at that very moment. It actually wouldn’t be a problem if he did, but he wants Derek to come first for some reason. Maybe as a reward for being so bold as to suggest this thing between them in the first place.

Stiles laps up the pre onto his tongue and suckles gently on the head. As the shaft pushes further into his mouth, despite him holding the base, Stiles is becoming aware of Derek’s thrashing on the bed. The wolf has his claws out and their slashing at the mattress. His fangs have beached his gums and the sparse times when Derek can open his eyes they beam bright alpha red. Stiles did this and he’s smug and doesn’t give a shit.

“Not… not gonna last, Stiles!” Derek pleads, knowing the end of the first of many beginnings was nigh. Stiles nods and deep throats Derek’s shaft as close to his bush as he can, using his fist to cover the rest of the way. Stiles swallows and hears Derek curse unmannerly into his fist as he tries to regain a semblance of control. Stiles pulls off briefly and implores the wolf.

“Derek, it’s okay, come for me, honey wolf. _Come_!” He presses a dry finger to Derek’s furled yet malleable entrance and gets his mouth back on Derek’s cock just in time to be greeted by a hot gush of cum that floods Stiles’ throat and nearly comes out of his ears. Derek’s body seems to know more is coming, so his balls aren’t emptied and his cock remains semi hard even though Derek himself is breathing hard, clearly enjoying the high of his release. He’s in the perfect position for Stiles to ravish him.

Stiles pushes Derek’s legs forward and instructs Derek to hold them back which the wolf does obediently. He then drags Derek to the end of the bed and kneels on the floor positioning his mouth right in front of Derek’s pucker. The view and aroma are both heady and Stiles could camp here without much convincing. He’d be happy to rough this wild anytime. He slurps one of Derek’s balls into his mouth and lolls it around gently with his tongue before repeating the same thing with the other ball. Derek is simply lying back with a spacy grin on his face as he waves his head from side to side, his arms prostrate to his sides, holding up his legs without any assistance and just enjoying the sensation of Stiles’ mouth on him.

When Stiles releases both balls from his cheek, he suckled on Derek’s perineum, licking a smooth line from his taint to his anus. He continues the line in a circle around Derek’s sphincter and smirks when it begins to pulsate lightly. He forms his hand into a circle and blows a stream of condensed hot air onto the newly wetted area. He can hear Derek nearly crying above him.

“Please, Stiles… _please_.” The wolf pleads with him and Stiles would be a monster if he didn’t obligh. He grabs both of Derek’s cheeks and separates them before licking a smooth line, adeptly wetting as much of the area as he could. Derek’s cock was starting to ooze cum again so Stiles gathers some on his tongue, along with some of his own pre and licked it around Derek’s hole, softening it to allow his tongue entrance. Although he’d tried to stay out of his head, Stiles can’t help but think back to the Colby Keller instructional videos he watched. Should he try saying the alphabet? Or perhaps a Shakespearean like sonnet? (Shakespeare-like as Stiles didn’t really know any of the Bard’s works outside of what Baz Lurhman had given them and he didn’t think his singing and dressing in drag was the answer to this problem on this day) Maybe it would be hotter if Stiles tried a dirty limerick though he doubts Derek would be able to understand him anyway, what with his mouth full of ass.

Stiles settles on a song he learned about the states of the US and begins to teach Derek’s scorching, velvet like walls a very important lesson in geography. He goes through every state, taking small detours to come up for air while kissing Derek’s buns and stroking his own sobbing cock lazily. He dives back in and makes an assault on Derek’s prostate like it’s a doorbell and his tongue is an over enthusiastic witness of Jehovah and damn it if Derek doesn’t swing the door open, becoming unhinged as he comes again, this time falling into a peaceful slumber while Stiles stands and expends himself all over his wolf’s body.

He stands there for a moment, just catching his breath and admiring his handiwork before sauntering into the bathroom to brush his teeth and grab a wetted hand towel. He wipes the wolf down gently, being careful not to stir him and then wipes himself down. He tosses the rag and climbs into the bed where a probably still sleeping Derek grabs him and pulls him towards his warm, inviting body. Stiles fits effortlessly into his embrace and his eyelids suddenly become heave with the peace only obtained after eating a man to orgasm. So he presumes.

 

***

Stiles wakes up and sees their position have changed. He lays on his back, comfortably nestled by cool pillows behind him and a warm and cozy wolf wrapped around him, sleepily rutting into his hip. Derek’s head is laying on Stiles’ shoulder as he mouths at the tendon in his neck while Stiles absently winds his fingers through Derek’s hair. Stiles glances at the clock reading 4am and observes that Derek must have gotten up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and repositioned them when he came back.

“Hey Der, you awake?” Stiles asks softly. He can feel Derek nod, the tickle of his stubble on Stiles’ slowly flushing skin, the hot breath as he snorts himself to some communicative form of consciousness.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He mumbles into the soft skin just above Stiles’ collarbone, kissing it reverently. Stiles tilts his head to the give the wolf better access and smiles.

“I’m so glad this happened, and I’m actually glad you were in a pissy mood because it led to this- ouch!” Derek rewards Stiles’ words with a light pinch to his puffy nipple. Stiles slaps Derek’s hand and give his hair a playful tug. Derek’s eyes flash briefly as he looks up at Stiles. Even though they both know the eyes thing won’t work on Stiles, neither of them will ever stop him from doing it.

He lays his hand on Stiles chest and props up his chin looking into the polished amber mine of Stiles’ eyes. His eyebrows raise, encouraging the lad to carry on, or at least that’s how Stiles would interpret it and Derek wasn’t going to stop him.

“As I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrrupted-” Stiles gasps as Derek growls, the vibrations of which seem to flow through both men, “-is that while I’m happy this happened as a result of you being a literal pissy bitch-”

“Jesus, Stiles!”

“I’m wondering what the hell got you in such a bad mood in the first place!” Stiles smoothes down Derek’s jumping brow, pouting a little to complete the effect. “I don’t like when you’re in a bad mood.”

Derek leans forward and kisses his pettish human before resting his chin back on his hands and shrugging.

“It wasn’t really one thing, just a lot of bullshit I had to deal with, just normal weekly stresses. And at the end of the week when I usually relieve some of that stress, my fucking vibrator broke.”

Stiles throws his head up so quickly he can hear his neck pop, “Your _what_?!”

Derek smirks, “My vibe, it was amazing and waterproof, but something fizzled and it just stopped working.

“Damn Hale, what is your sex life?”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek delivers with his patented Hale Eye Roll, but Stiles will not be dismissed.

“Dammit, Derek! I thought something really bad had happened!”

“That was bad! I loved that thing and it was limited edition. It could be controlled via app and wifi and had like 100 different vibration settings.”

Stiles looks at Derek’s disappointed face and sees a real hurt there. He can’t help but find it endearing.

“Derek, I-”

“Don’t judge me, Stiles! I’m sure your sex toy collection is in some safety deposit vault downtown.”

“Derek, shut up for a minute!” Stiles laughs. Derek buries his head in Stiles’ pit and licks, causing the boy to jump and shuffle around until they’re laying nose to nose. “I’m not going to judge you about your sex toys and not just because you’re way too close to learning about my sex toy collection.” Stiles can see Derek filing that piece of information away for later.

“I’m going to judge you because in all these years, what have you learned about me?”

“That you’re an impossible brat when you want to be.”

“Okay, not the direction I was going in, but no less true. What else?”

“That you love milk and cheese but they make you a little bit gassy?”

“Hey big guy, as long as you keep buying me the _Lactaid_ we’ll just be fine. Now this time try to suggest something that applies to the situation we’re currently in.”

“You love me.”

Stiles has to close his eyes to absorb just the shine alone in Derek’s eyes as he said it. He knows he should respond quickly, but his smile is too wide for his words to make any sense. He reaches up and pets Derek’s beard though his moment and when he opens his eyes again, Derek is beaming his 1000 watt smile at him. Stiles nods.

“I do, you ass!” Stiles blathers, trying to keep himself together. Derek leans forward kissing the young man lightly until Stiles pushes him back gently.

“What I was trying to say is that in the time we’ve known each other, you know that I’m a fixer! So if you’d told me you had a favorite vibe - which I totally gets by the way, I have one too, he’s a vibrating plug and his name is Pluggy… I’ve never been good at naming things- anyhow, I would have been able to find a replacement for you! What kind is it?”

Derek rolls over and grabs his phone from the nightstand, pulling up a picture of a the dildo on his phone. Well, actually it’s a picture of Derek’s come striped chest with the vibrator laying in a pool of the jism in his belly button. Stiles clears his throat and forwards the picture to himself,

“For research purposes, of course.” He explains with a sly side eye to the smug and smirking wolf.

“Of course.”

Stiles looks again and shakes his head.

“You’re a kinky bitch, you know that right?”

“It’s discontinued and the newer model isn’t that good.” Derek says, ignoring Stiles.

“I’ll find it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup, anything to keep my new boyfriend happy.”

Derek crawls over Stiles, laying his warm weight on the boy who shivers in anticipation.

“Boyfriend, eh?”

“Yeah, get used to it, Big Guy.”

This kiss for a while, Derek’s arms wrapped around Stiles’ narrow waist and Stiles’ roaming and dexterous hands massaging Derek’s back and shoulders. They rut lazily against each other, simply enjoying the time as the sun meanders towards morning.

Derek kissing Stiles’ nose, causing the boy to scrunch his face up cutely and then bites his chin.

“So, Michael Clayton-”

“Deep pull, I like it.”

“What am I going to do until you find me a new vibrator?” Derek asks far too nonchalantly. Stiles seems to daze off and only comes to when Derek shakes him a little.

“Sorry, I still haven’t fully dealt with you just having a fucking vibe, much less the image of you using it. You gotta give me some time to adjust, man.”

“Well how do you think I feel? It was my vibe!”

“Well you’ve got a real dick to fuck you now!” Stiles says, grabbing his junk and slapping it against Derek’s belly. Derek tries not to laugh, but can’t help it.

“I know and I fucking love it, don’t get me wrong, but Stiles… you could program the vibrations to music!” Derek looks up at Stiles through his lashes to try and pacify his new lover who is still miffed on behalf of his junk.

“Look dude, I can maybe find a way to make my dick vibrate to some old school R&B shit, but I feel like we’re gonna get into Frankenterritory and this town is already fucking weird enough.”

“Or-” Derek slithers, lolling his body up Stiles like a winding serpent, “I could just use yours.”

Stiles’ mind had just gotten over Derek having a vibe and now it was stuck on something else.

“Holy shit, you wanna use mine?”

Derek shrugs coquettishly and taps his fingers around Stiles areola.

“Kinda?”

“Kinda? You kinky son of a-”

“ _Stiles…_ ”

“ _Shhh…_ it’s okay.” Stiles pleads, holding up his hands in surrender. “I kinda wanna watch.”

“Hell yeah.”

Stiles lays his head back and Derek makes his way lazily down the young man’s torso to his mostly hard cock. He exhales as the sign of a job well done takes him hotly in mouth and he can’t help the sense of pride and satisfaction that fills him.

Stiles has always been a helper, but he’s finally learned the satisfaction and reciprocal joy that came when he simply learned to help himself.


End file.
